"Mother was anchor. Mother was comfort. Mother was home.
A girl who lost her mother was suddenly a tiny boat on an angry
ocean. Some boats eventually floated ashore. And some boats,
like, me, seemed to float farther and farther from land."
Ruta Sepetys
Mother's Day floods my mind with memories of raising my four children. My youngest, a girl, was born on Mother's Day ... the gift that keeps on giving. My years of motherhood were not emotionally fluent by any means, but I positively loved being a parent. Each of my children brought a gift to me and they carved deeply into my character.
Mother's Day is always a mix of emotions. Facebook is filled with testimonials about perfect mothers. Memoirs are filled with angst over the loss of a mother. Television is filled with a smorgasbord of scenarios (all positive), balloons, and flowers.
It is not until the end of the day that I allow myself to think of my own mother. In hindsight, she had a very difficult life scarred by family dynamics, emotional challenges, and unhealthy relationships. I mainly resemble my mother and she did pass down her creative ways to me. However, I was a boat afloat on an angry ocean that drifted out to sea.
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